I've just spent the weekend in the country at what these days is called a "boutique hotel" but which once might have been called a "guesthouse".
The main house had a beautiful lawn where guests could play boules or croquet, garden chairs for lolling about in with a magazine, a swimming pool, a lounge with a fireplace, lots of books and board games and a fine dining restaurant where one could eat breakfast, lunch and dinner.
It was very convivial, different to a hotel where guests usually keep to themselves, although privacy was certainly an option. What I like most about staying in a place where guests are mostly thrown together at meals, in the library and by the pool, is that it only works if you're civil to each other, keep the children in check, don't play excruciatingly loud doof doof music from your verandah and don't get plastered and screech around the pool. Kind of the opposite of most holiday resorts.
I've stayed in a lot of lovely old guesthouses over the years, from Marysville to the Mountains Blue and Adirondack. These days, many of the classic places have been done up with great care, catering to a well-heeled market, including honeymooners and "babymooners" (spotted lots of them this weekend).
We're blessed in Australia with a number of wonderful luxury country hotels, such as Daylesford's The Lake House and Bell's at Killcare on the NSW Central Coast, all of which have plenty of old-fashioned charm and cosset you with a combination of great cooking, fresh country air and an opportunity to recharge.
One of the most famous, the Hydro Majestic at Medlow Bath in the Blue Mountains, is reopening just before Christmas after a massive renovation that has restored its grand style after years of neglect. I haven't had a chance to visit yet but it looks as if they've done a beautiful job.
But quality and tranquillity come at a premium these days. Guests demand more amenities from the places they stay, from exercise rooms to cable TV and lavish spas - and the food has to be a destination in itself. So the better modern-day guesthouses and lodges can be pricey.
This makes me nostalgic for the guesthouses of my childhood, which weren't luxury holidays at all, but places where whole families, grandparents through to babies, could afford to stay for weeks at a time over summer.
My grandfather would take our family to a guesthouse at Cowes on Phillip Island for the Easter holidays. I recall a big sprawling place, possibly fibro and timber, with a communal dining room where we would eat at precisely set times and all get the same thing. No room for vegetarians or fussy eaters – you had the battered flathead or you had nothing.
It was simple fare but to this day I remember the chocolate custard they served. I'm not sure anything has tasted better since.
We went down to the beach or spent time with our heads in books, or drawing, or playing cards with our parents. We kids soon made friends with strangers because we had to, or otherwise we'd never get away from the adults. Sometimes you made a friend for life.
It was all very rough and tumble, maybe not that dissimilar to the crazy little seaside hotel in Jacques Tati's Mr Hulot's Holiday, with its eternally squeaking flyscreen door. I'm sure the beds weren't made up with 300-count Egyptian cotton sheets. It didn't have a swimming pool or a water slide or even a television. We didn't care because we didn't know any better and it was just fine. Bliss, in fact.
Modern kids would probably turn up their precocious noses at board games or doing anything with their parents. But deprive them of their electronic devices and I bet they'd have a ball mucking around with Chinese Checkers and boules once they got over their sulks. (They might even be encouraged to play Scrabble.)
It's the same for adults. What I noticed this past weekend was how many guests lingered over breakfast with a newspaper. I didn't see anyone take a selfie. The Wi Fi was a little temperamental so I was forced to detach myself from Twitter. I read an entire novel in two days.
We've come a long way from old-fashioned guesthouses with their regimented meal times and meagre entertainment options. But I miss them.
